


Skiptrace

by QuokkaFoxtrot



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, Epistolary, First Kiss, Hacker Newt, M/M, Newt's activist roots, Possibly a one-shot, Pre-Relationship, Prompt Fic, Skiptracer Hermann, apparently not a one-shot, bounty hunter AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-16
Updated: 2015-01-31
Packaged: 2018-03-07 19:56:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3181211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuokkaFoxtrot/pseuds/QuokkaFoxtrot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermann is a skiptracer who tracks down Newt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mutiny

**Author's Note:**

> This was only supposed to be 500 words or so but then...
> 
> Based on this prompt from mustang-sal: Hermann and Newt, AU wherein one is a bounty hunter and one is his assignment (could also be cop vs criminal if you prefer).
> 
> I went with Hermann being a [Skiptrace](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Skiptrace), which from what I gather is a more research heavy version of a bounty hunter.
> 
> I'm still taking prompts on [this meme](http://deadfashionista.tumblr.com/post/108161181291/au-meme). Can't promise that I'll fill them all with fic, but it's always possible that there'll be another that'll eat my brain.

Hermann sat in an armchair out of view of the main entrance; the tripwire had been set, all he had to do now was wait. 

He stared at the lizard occupying a large tank set along one wall. The lizard stared back.

It had been forty-five minutes by the time a key turned in the door and Hermann tensed in anticipation.

"Hold on just a little longer, girl, dinner's com- _woah!_ " 

A figure sprawled in front of him, groaning on the floor, and within seconds Hermann had taken advantage of the man's shock, zip-tying his hands behind his back.

"What the fuck?" The man said, shaking his head as he squirmed to turn his head and look up at Hermann. "Oh shit. You're here to kill me, aren't you? You're some sort of sadistic psychopath. You're going to cut me up into little pieces and serve me for dinner. Shitshitshit, please don't kill me."

"Newton Geiszler?" Hermann asked, staring down at the man with a raised eyebrow. 

"You've been stalking me? Oh god, fuck, shit, _fuck_ , _shit_. You're going to enjoy it. You're going to-"

"Would you _please_ be quiet? I'm not here to kill you," Hermann said in exasperation, nudging Geiszler in the side none too gently with his cane. "I'm here to take you in; there's quite the sum on your head. You've made some very powerful people, _very_ unhappy."

"I've made some- _No shit_ they're unhappy," Geiszler said rolling onto his side so he could glare up at Hermann. "Do you even know what I _did_?"

"What you did makes no difference to me as long as I get my cut," Hermann said with a sniff, adjusting his gloves before pushing himself up to stand. "Can you get up or was the fall too much for you?"

"Dude, you don't even- I wiped out people's debts. _Medical debts_. They're _pissed_ because they're not going to be able to squeeze scared, sick people for every last penny. And _you're_ helping them." Geiszler huffed, struggling with the bonds.

"You- Why would you...?" Hermann trailed off, looking down at the man in confusion. 

"Because medical care is _not_ a privilege, no matter what they tell you," Newt spat out, glancing at Hermann's cane and jutting his chin out, and scowling at Hermann as though he were the biggest hypocrite alive.

Hermann felt taken aback; he'd done this nearly a hundred times, but never had the target been wanted for doing something... honourable. His mind reeled with what the ramifications of taking Geiszler in would mean.

Hushing Geiszler before he could start ranting again, he stared off into space trying to cover all the potential outcomes of his actions. Coming to a decision, he looked down at Geiszler and set his jaw, pulling out his pocketknife and flicking it open.

"Woah, woah, woah, I thought you said you weren't here to kill me!" Geiszler squawked, inching back awkwardly across the floor.

"I'm still not," Hermann said and walked over to place his foot on Geiszler's side and look down at him. "Would you do it again? Hack away people's debts?" 

Newt glared up at him defiantly, jaw tight and angry as he spat out "Yes. In a _second_."

Hermann stared for a moment longer and nodded, leaning over to sever the tie in one quick movement.

"What are you- You're letting me go?" Geiszler said, curling in on himself and rubbing his wrists, red and chafed from struggling against the plastic. 

"No," Hermann said and looked around the room, before walking toward the table in the corner. "But you're going to have to work with me."

"I'm _not_ going in and I'm _not_ going to stop," Geiszler said, pushing himself up to sit and lean against a wall.

"I don't expect you to," Hermann said, glancing over his shoulder as he picked up a pile of fliers and magazines. "But if you're going to disappear, you have to do it properly. I just need to orchestrate this correctly..."

"What makes you think you can make me disappear? _I_ couldn't make me disappear and I'm the best hacker I know," Geiszler asked cynically, grabbing the bag he'd dropped when he'd fallen and pulling it close.

"I'm a skiptracer, I can find anyone. I know what to look for, I know how to sift through the scattered remnants of a missing person's life and find the thread that will lead me to them," Hermann said and returned his attention to the pile. "I found you. I can hide you better than you ever could."

"Can't you just... unfind me?" Geiszler said, pushing himself up and taking the box over to the tank. "Why don't you just walk away?"

"Because I've left a trail to you..." Hermann turned and looked at Newt. "If you had to run again, where would you go?" 

"I dunno, somewhere warm? Florida?" Geiszler shrugged.

"We'll move you to Wisconsin," Hermann said and dumped the stack back on the table.

"Nuh uh. I'm not moving to Wisconsin. It's _cold_ there." Geiszler shook his head emphatically.

"Exactly. Fugitives rarely run north, and even if they do, they're aiming for Canada. They always want to be somewhere sunny and nice where they can go out and be seen and get _caught_ ," Hermann gave Geiszler a withering look and looked into the kitchen nook. "You'll have to cancel your subscriptions to these magazines - regardless of what name they're under, Newton. And get rid of that lizard."

"Okay, one, my name's _Newt_. Two? I'm not getting rid of Chiana." Newt slipped his hand into the box and quickly pulled out a cricket, before sliding the tank open and holding it out to the lizard. "She's a good girl, isn't she?"

"She's what got you caught," Hermann said critically. "Your interests? Your _hobbies_? They're the trail I followed. Your love of reptiles; your kaiju movies; your musical taste; your subscription to Scientific American - _they_ are what made your location so simple for me to pinpoint. It might take others longer, but they _will_ find you. For this plan to succeed, you cannot be _you_."

"I don't even know what the plan is, man," Newt said, passing another cricket to Chiana before closing the lid on the tank. 

"We are going to move you to a safe location under an assumed name and leave a subtle trail of misdirection," Hermann said looking Newt up and down. "Can you do _subtle_?"

"Hey, I can do subtle. Subtle is my middle name. I'm the epitome of subtle," Newt said planting his hands firmly on his hips.

Hermann eyed the tattoos adorning his arms and peeking out under his ratty cargo shorts; the intensely patterned converse and slogan tee shirt; the cat-eye glasses that accentuated bright blue-green eyes... Hermann closed his eyes and pursed his lips. "You do not get to make any decisions," he stated firmly, opening his eyes once more to pin Newt with a stern frown. "You do not know how to _hide_. You are to wear long sleeved shirts and full-length trousers in bland colours - cover up your tattoos. Change your frames to something more subdued; go with what everyone else is wearing - thick black plastic and square. _Comb_ your hair. Grow a beard; you'll look like every other hipster in the place. Do whatever it takes to _not_ stand out."

"Did you even read my file?" 

"Unfortunately." Hermann rolled his eyes and turned towards the door. "That's what makes this all the more difficult. While I'm out - do not go anywhere - start creating a new identity - you'll be David Jones; Dave as you seem so fond of nicknames."

"Dude, I can choose my own name," Newt huffed and stomped towards his computer.

"Of course you can. You did _so_ well with _Claude Bernard_. Honestly, on top of the name standing out, choosing a prominent biologist made it all the more obvious that it was _you_ ," Hermann said, resting his hand on the doorknob as he looked over his shoulder with a smirk. "Besides, I would have thought an avowed Bowie fan would appreciate the reference."

Newt's eyes widened and his lips tilted up in a smirk. "Well played."

"I thought so. Now get to work." 

With that, Hermann disappeared through the door.

Two hours later, he knocked on Newt's door, carrying a bag and trying not to look over his shoulder furtively. 

The door swung open and Hermann held up a finger to stop Newt talking until the door was closed.

"Okay, I'm David Jones. I'm a biology teacher transferring in to North High School in Eau Claire Wisconsin from Northwest High in Omaha, Nebraska. I start in two weeks." Newt said with a grin.

"Good. Now, tomorrow, you are going to take a bag and go to the Greyhound Terminal. You are going to purchase a ticket to Miami in cash and then go into the bathroom and change into these clothes." Hermann shoved a bag at Newt and sat down, digging in his pockets for the rest of the ruse. "Once you're in those clothes, you will take this ticket and catch a bus to Indianapolis; from there to Milwaukee and thence to Eau Claire." 

"How do you know these will even fit me?" Newt asked, looking at the black trousers and white shirt sceptically.

"I know you've seen the Toho version of Godzilla fifty-three times; what makes you think I don't know your inseam?" Hermann said with a withering glare and then scattered some brochures on the table. "Withdraw as much cash as you can here and then destroy the card. Come over here - touch these, flick through them, scrunch them up. Get your fingerprints all over them."

Newt frowned and picked one up. "Aw, man. You're just teasing now," he said as he flicked through the pictures of palm trees and beaches in brochures for California and Florida.

"Make sure there's a big, clear index finger print on the page for Miami, then scrunch it up into a little ball and shove it to the bottom of the trash." Hermann said with a smirk and grabbed a pad of paper and pen from the coffee table. "When you're done, look up the cheapest, nastiest hotel you can find and write down the address; press down hard enough that it will show up on the next page, but not so hard that it looks like you were trying to make it show through." 

"Sheez, you don't ask for much, do you?" Newt said and continued muttering as he took the stack of brochures into the kitchen. There was the sound of rustling in the kitchen and when Newt returned, he leaned against the doorframe and stared at Hermann in confusion. "Why are you doing this? Why are you... _helping_ me?"

Hermann tensed, fingers clasping tightly around the head of his cane as he closed his eyes, took a deep breath and forced his body to relax before looking over at Newt calmly. 

"Looking at me, would you say I'm the kind of man who would _willingly_ become a bounty hunter?" Hermann asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I dunno, man, I don't tend to judge on outward appearance that much," Newt said with a shrug.

"I... am a mathematician. I have a tenured position at a university. I am also... in a great deal of debt. Medical debt. I am relatively well off; I have resources at my disposal and still... still I do this to fend off bankruptcy," Hermann stood, resting heavily on his cane as he looked down at Newt. "This system is broken and while you may not be the one to fix it, you have helped a great number of people simply survive it. I'll not stand in your way."

Newt nodded slowly and looked at Hermann, lips twisted sympathetically. "Who's your provider? I could target them next."

Hermann shook his head, clearing his throat as he stepped around Newt. "I cannot benefit from this escapade; it would cast suspicion in my direction. Do what you must, but do not involve me. I will survive." He walked towards the door, looking over his shoulder before opening it. "Good luck."

"Dude, wait, I don't even know your name and- and I can't just _leave_ Chiana, what do I- I don't know what- what do I do?"

Hermann looked past Newt at the tank on the wall and sighed. "Hermann Gottlieb... I-... Leave instructions for her care and transport on the tank. I will take her with me when I leave in a few days."

"Seriously? You'd do that for m- for her? You'd take care of her?" Newt said, licking his lips and blinking at him owlishly.

"I'll call it a crisis of conscience if anyone asks. Couldn't just leave her to die, now, could I?"

"That's- Dude. Thank you so much. I'm seriously going to owe you one."

"You already do," Hermann said aiming a small smile in Newt's direction before clearing his throat and looking away. "Be on that bus tomorrow."

And with that, he slipped out the door and closed it behind him, refusing to think about the ramifications of what he'd done and the fact that he'd never see Newt again.

\---

_Two Months Later_

**To:** Hermann Gottlieb  
 **From:** Hans Schreiber  
 **Subject:** Schreiber-Gottlieb Theorem

Dear Dr. Gottlieb,

It was a pleasure to hear from you regarding the potentiality of our future workings. I'm looking forward to getting right down into that math and mathing the math out of it.

Okay, so, seriously, dude, it is fucking boring and cold here and I can't keep playing the dull biology professor who doesn't have a personality. _I need someone to talk to!!!_

You're the only person who knows who I really am and where I am and why I'm going out of my fucking mind trying not to stand out so you're responsible for keeping me sane. That's just how it is now. That's your job. You brought this on yourself.

Before you go and get all pissy at me, I've sent this securely and I've attached instructions for how to respond securely and delete this securely and everything is so securely secure it isn't funny, ok? 

How's Chiana? Are you alternating feeding her the crickets and mealworms every other day like I told you to? Send me a picture? I want to see my princess.

Please please please please motherfucking _please_ respond because I'm about to go so batshit crazy I might just up and get myself caught so I don't have to do this anymore.

I'm tired and I'm lonely and I just want someone to talk to.

Yours in mathy mathness,

Hans Schreiber

\---

 **To:** Hans Schreiber  
 **From:** Hermann Gottlieb  
 **Subject:** Gottlieb-Schreiber Theorem

Dear Hans,

Thank you for your swift response. I believe that our future endeavours will greatly benefit all of mankind.

Please find attached a picture of Chiana. She is flourishing. I bought her a new heat lamp last week and she spends most of her time underneath it. I am alternating food types as you asked.

I informed my employers that the trail went cold in Miami. If I'd thought ahead at the time, I could have implemented something then, but this idea only came to me last week. Do you still have the clothes you wore to the bus station? I need you to cut yourself and bleed all over the t-shirt or shorts and send it to me - P.O. Box 10385, New York, etc. Make it look like it came from a gunshot. 

This is not a perfect solution, but if I can fake your death, they will stop looking for you. You'll never be able to be Newton Geiszler again, but David Jones will stop having to keep his head down.

I hope you're doing well in spite of your cabin fever.

Sincerely,

Hermann Gottlieb


	2. Bounty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta by the wonderful marshtwain.

_August 10, 2013_

>   
> **To:** Hermann Gottlieb  
>  **From:** Hans Schreiber  
>  **Subject:** San Francisco
> 
> Have you been watching the news? You're still in New York, right? You're safe?
> 
> Man, this is _insane_. Like something out of Godzilla. What I wouldn't give to get up close to one of those things... The things we could learn. Dude, it would be _amazing_ , I'm just saying.
> 
> Do you think it's just been hanging out at the bottom of the ocean for eons? Hibernating or something?

_August 11, 2013_

>   
> **To:** Hans Schreiber  
>  **From:** Hermann Gottlieb  
>  **Subject:** San Francisco
> 
> I am in Boston on a case. I am safe. Do not worry. I have no intention of going anywhere _near_ San Francisco.
> 
> It seems likely. There have been no alerts of unusual celestial objects over the past few months, and certainly nothing of this size. We've only explored 5% of the ocean. There could be all manner of creatures in the other 95% that we cannot even begin to imagine.

_August 12, 2013_

>   
> **To:** Hermann Gottlieb  
>  **From:** Hans Schreiber  
>  **Subject:** San Francisco
> 
> Thank fuck, man. I don't know what I would have done if you were there.
> 
> It took them three whole days to take that thing out. _Three days_. What the hell could withstand that kind of attack??? I need to see the remains up close. 
> 
> Do you think they need people in Frisco to help out?

>   
> **To:** Hans Schreiber  
>  **From:** Hermann Gottlieb  
>  **Subject:** San Francisco
> 
> STAY WHERE YOU ARE. You are not to leave Wisconsin. David Jones is a high-school biology teacher, _not_ some genius wunderkind. Do not do anything to call attention to yourself.

>   
> **To:** Hermann Gottlieb  
>  **From:** Hans Schreiber  
>  **Subject:** San Francisco
> 
> Keep your pants on, man. He's been legally dead for a _year_. Nobody's going to be looking for him anymore.

>   
> **To:** Hans Schreiber  
>  **From:** Hermann Gottlieb  
>  **Subject:** San Francisco
> 
> In case you've forgotten, you are _terrible_ at subtlety. You stood out a mile when you were yourself and you left quite the impression on everyone you met. The number of people from your field who are going to be attracted to San Francisco after the events of the past few days alone could be enough to bring the efforts of the past two years down.
> 
> Do not go to San Francisco.

\---

_February 7, 2014_

>   
> **To:** Hermann Gottlieb  
>  **From:** Hans Schreiber  
>  **Subject:** Manila
> 
> What the fuck is going on, dude? This is some apocalyptic shit going on right now. Do you think there are more down there?
> 
> The kids are going _nuts_ over this _._ I've got parents coming to me wanting to know what those things are, as if the biology teacher is going to have some insider information about the giant lizards attacking the world. 
> 
> I've got alerts set up all over the place - my phone is pinging every 12 seconds - but they all say the same shit over and over. You heard anything new?

_February 8, 2014_

>   
> **To:** Hans Schreiber  
>  **From:** Hermann Gottlieb  
>  **Subject:** Manila
> 
> Possibly a mated couple? You'd know more about the hows and whys of deep-sea reptiles than I.
> 
> I don't know what information you have; how can I possibly know if my information is different?
> 
> The UN has set up an alert system to warn civilians of impending attacks. A team of seismologists are monitoring the oceans for unusual activity - though how they can discern the _unusual_ is beyond me. The survivors of Trespasser's attack are still rebuilding.
> 
> There is so much to wade through and the world continues turning. 
> 
> I'm on the trail of an embezzler - nasty piece of work, cleared out the savings of hundreds of seniors. I may be out of contact for a while.
> 
> Las Vegas is awful.

\---

_June 2, 2014_

>   
> **To:** Hans Schreiber  
>  **From:** Hermann Gottlieb  
>  **Subject:** Cabo
> 
> I don't think they're going to stop.

_June 3, 2014_

>   
> **To:** Hermann Gottlieb  
>  **From:** Hans Schreiber  
>  **Subject:** Cabo
> 
> How many giant monsters can we possibly be hiding? Wouldn't we have had _some_ idea that there was something like that down there? And why would they start attacking _now_? What did we do?

>   
> **To:** Hans Schreiber  
>  **From:** Hermann Gottlieb  
>  **Subject:** Cabo
> 
> What if they're not from the ocean? Or, at least, not from _our_ ocean. What if they're _appearing_ there?
> 
> What if they're slipping through a seam in space?

>   
> **To:** Hermann Gottlieb  
>  **From:** Hans Schreiber  
>  **Subject:** Cabo
> 
> No more Portal co-op for a while, bud. k?

\---

_July 28, 2015_

>   
> **To:** Hans Schreiber  
>  **From:** Hermann Gottlieb  
>  **Subject:** Absence
> 
> I can no longer sit by idly while our world is under attack. I believe my theory is correct - the Kaijus are not hiding at the bottom of the ocean, they are appearing there.
> 
> I am joining the Pan Pacific Defense Corps. 
> 
> Their research division has the resources and the access I need to help make _sense_ of what is going on.
> 
> I will contact you when I can. I wish I were taking you with me; I know how much good you could do.
> 
> I'm sorry.

>   
> **To:** Hermann Gottlieb  
>  **From:** Hans Schreiber  
>  **Subject:** Absence
> 
> You're going to send me _everything_ you study. _Everything._
> 
> Email when you can, man. I'm gonna go nuts without you.

\---

_December 18, 2016_

>   
> **To:** Hans Schreiber  
>  **From:** Hermann Gottlieb  
>  **Subject:** I was right!
> 
> We've found evidence of there being a breach in the fabric of space in the ocean; seismic activity in an area near the Mariana Trench prior to each attack gave us an area to focus on. An electromagnetic signature recorded days before the previous attack all but confirm my suspicions.
> 
> I've attached everything as usual. I also took what I could from K-Sci. I wish I could offer more; I have to be careful, they're paying attention to the access logs. 
> 
> I sincerely wish we had your expertise here. Would that we lived in a different world.

_December 20, 2016_

>   
> **To:** Hermann Gottlieb  
>  **From:** Hans Schreiber  
>  **Subject:** San Francisco
> 
> Dude, okay. 1. The breach thing is awesome. Awesome that you found it, but also terrifying. They could just keep coming and coming and coming. How the hell are we supposed to keep fighting them off?
> 
> 2\. This is all the information they have??? This is all qualitative. _Conjecture_. They've got fucking _nothing_. 
> 
> I'm super fucking stoked that I've been able to help you as much as I have, but I could be doing _so much more_. Our disciplines don't even match up; I could be more useful than as a sounding board.
> 
> Do you really think that with everything going on in the world the bigwigs would focus on punishing me rather than letting me _help_? What's the point of me sitting on my ass doing nothing and worrying about my safety if the kaiju destroy everything??

\---

_December 28, 2016_

Hermann stood outside the Marshall's office, biting his lip as he stared at the door. If he did this, it could help turn the tide of a war they were only winning by the skin of their teeth. If he _did_ this, he'd put one man's life at risk... but how many more could they save?

He braced himself and knocked.

"Come." 

Opening the door, he stepped inside, making sure it was firmly closed behind him before stepping towards the Marshall's desk.

"Dr. Gottlieb, what can I do for you?" the Marshall asked, looking up from his paperwork and setting his pen aside.

"I... I have information. Information that could potentially help us in the war against the Kaijus," said Hermann, swallowing against the nausea roiling in the pit of his stomach. "But I need assurances; that what I am about to tell you will be kept in the strictest confidence and... and that there will be no reprisals against me for what I have done."

The Marshall's brow furrowed, eyes narrowing as he watched Hermann trying to straighten more than his already rigid posture would allow. "Why would I do that?"

"Because you need people - _scientists_. You need research and information and- and I have the man who could put us _leagues_ ahead of where we are. Though he is technically... dead." Hermann deflated a little as the Marshall's face shifted to a stern frown.

"Dead scientists are no good to me, Dr. Gottlieb," said Pentecost, picking up his pen and looking back down at his work. "If you're done taking up my time..."

"Please, sir. I can explain," Hermann persisted, jerking forward and holding out a hand. "I will take any reprisals, but... we need him. Please, may I have your confidence?"

Pentecost looked up, eyes boring into Hermann's, before he put the pen down and leaned back in his chair. "You have my confidence. Explain."

Hermann swallowed and nodded, closing his eyes as he went through the speech he'd been preparing for nearly a week.

"Before the war, before the first attack, I was a mathematician at NYU. I was also... moonlighting as a skiptracer - a bounty hunter, if you will - to cover my excess medical costs." Hermann turned his hand out, twisting the handle of his cane in emphasis. 

Pentecost's eyes darted across and then back to his face. He nodded once and gestured for Hermann to continue. 

"I was... good at it. I found the smartest criminals; the ones who were best at covering their tracks. They were not good enough. I brought them in and paid off my debts and that should have been that. There was... there was one I did not bring in. His crime was... honourable, though I know that was not for me to decide. He was... he was a hacker who erased the medical debts of hundreds of people, losing millions for at least one multinational corporation, but greatly improving the lives of all those individuals and their families. Given my situation, I could not, in good conscience, act in such a way as to benefit those who make profit from the suffering of desperate people. I... let him go." Hermann paused and looked Pentecost directly in the eye. "I helped him hide. I... helped him fake his own death."

Pentecost was silent for a time and Hermann did his best to not fidget under the scrutiny.

"And you think the PPDC needs a man like that?"

"I do," Hermann said, swallowing and straightening; standing tall as he met Pentecost's gaze. "He is... bad with authority, argumentative, stubborn, offensive and rude. He will not hold back if he thinks you are wrong. But he is brilliant: one of the greatest minds of our generation. He has already helped a great deal, but he could be _so_ much more than a mere sounding board for my theories. His background is in biology. You know as well as I that we desperately need information about the Kaijus, and I believe he is tenacious enough to discover what we need. He _wants_ to help; he _wants_ to enlist."

"We have scientists, Dr. Gottlieb. The PPDC has some of the best minds on the planet working with us-"

"But you don't have _him_ ," Hermann blurted over the Marshall and it took a few moments for mortification to overpower the righteous anger that had overtaken him. "I apologise, sir. That was out of line. Please... look up... look up Newton Geiszler and tell me we couldn't use his expertise." 

The silence in the room felt like it was choking Hermann - dry in his throat and damp in the palms of his hands.

"Permission to be dismissed?" Hermann asked quietly when the wait began to feel interminable.

"Granted." 

Hermann swiftly saluted and made his way out of the office, avoiding Pentecost's gaze. 

It wasn't until he was back in the lab staring at a page of equations that he let himself relax. What was done was done, only time will tell if he helped save the world, or doomed himself.

\---

_June 7, 2017_

Hermann stood in the alcove staring out at the helipad. The bulletin board said the chopper would be arriving at thirteen hundred, but weather always interfered with the schedule. He'd been waiting forty-five minutes, jogging a leg and pacing to keep himself warm every time the door opened and let a frigid blast of air in, when he saw the helicopter make its weaving descent and land. 

Five people emerged when it settled, grabbing bags and hurrying across the tarmac with their heads down as they made a beeline for the door. Hermann watched as they stamped their boots and the hoods came down, shaking snow off their coats to melt on the floor. He looked at their faces, trying to find the one he only vaguely remembered from a single meeting three years ago. When he didn't find it, he felt a pang and uncertainty envelop him - had he got the dates mixed up? 

"Hold up! I dropped my pen!" The door burst open and a sixth figure rushed in, slamming the door behind him. He shook his hood off and stamped his boots and then Hermann was looking into blue-green eyes and- "Holy shit. _Hermann_?!"

"I'd heard you were arriving today; I thought I'd meet you," said Hermann, smiling tightly at Newt intensely aware of the entire group staring at them.

"You thought you'd meet me? You send me an email that says 'Dr. Jones is joining the PPDC. Prepare yourself.' and then nothing for _six months_?! What the fuck, dude?" Newt smacked Hermann on the shoulder, the impact softened by the puffy gloves covering his hands.

"Dr. Jones? We need to get everyone to orientation," the corporal guiding the group said before Hermann can respond.

"I can handle Dr. Jones' orientation, corporal," Hermann cut in, waving the corporal off.

"But-"

"Corporal, you'd best get everyone here to orientation. I need to speak to those two." The Marshall stepped through the inner doorway and held it open as the corporal snapped to attention, saluted, and then began ushering everyone out into the hall.

As soon as the alcove was empty, Pentecost pulled the door closed and secure behind him, before he walked toward Newt and Hermann, a curious smile playing at the corners of his lips.

"Welcome to The Icebox, Dr. Geiszler," he said and out of the corner of his eye, Hermann could see Newt tense.

"What? Uh, I don't- Who is- I think you got the wrong guy," Newt stammered, looking frantically between Hermann and Pentecost and inching towards the outer door.

"The paperwork came through this morning," Pentecost said, holding up a hand to calm Newt. "You've officially been pardoned by the president. _Both_ of you."

"Holy shit. You mean I can... I can be me again? I can, y'know, use my name again?" Newt stared at Pentecost wide eyed, almost vibrating in place.

"Yes, Dr. Geiszler, you can," Pentecost said with a smile

"Call me Newt," Newt said, paused for a moment, and laughed, eyes widening further as the realisation hit him. "Call me _Newt.“_

The vestibule rang with the sound of his joy and then he was wrapping his arms around Pentecost and squeezing him tight.

Hermann felt all the colour drain from his face.

Pentecost's was a picture of bemused discomfort.

"Newton," Hermann hissed, tugging on Newt's jacket to pull him back. "Stop that _at once_."

Newt stumbled back, staring up at Pentecost wide-eyed. "Shit, fuck, sorry. Sorry, _sir_. That's- Chain of Command and- but you just gave me my _life_ back. You- They don't cover that in basic and- You know, technically you just birthed me."

"That's _enough_ , Newton," Hermann snapped, elbowing him in the side forcefully.

" _Ow!_ Sheez- Um. Sorry. Sorry, sir. Ah, yeah. Sorry," Newt said, still too caught up in his jubilation to look at all apologetic.

Pentecost tugged his uniform down at the front and smoothed a hand over the material before levelling his gaze on Hermann. "I trust you can handle Newt's orientation, Dr. Gottlieb?"

"Yes, sir," Hermann said, snapping to attention and saluting smartly.

Pentecost looked at them both, keyed open the door, and walked out. Hermann could see him shake his head as it swung shut behind him.

"Really, Newton," Hermann said as he turned a disapproving glare on Newt. "What sort of display was that? That was your _commanding officer!_ "

"Say it again," Newt squeaked, excited and giddy.

"That was your _commanding officer_. Though I don't know why it bears repeat-"

"My _name_ , dumbass," said Newt, smacking Hermann in the shoulder. 

"Newton, why-" Hermann yelped as Newt laughed and wrapped his arms around Hermann, whooping as he picked him up and spun him around. "Put me down! Unhand me at once! I did not risk everything for you to come here and treat me like a ragdoll, you enormous buffoon! _Put me down!_ "

Newt set him down carefully, but his arms remained wrapped around him tightly as his smile softened and he looked up at Hermann. "Just one more time."

"Newton?" asked Hermann, feeling somewhat frazzled and disoriented.

Newt just grinned and then he was leaning in and kissing Hermann softly. His hand drifted up to hold Hermann's head in place as he deepened the kiss and Hermann found himself clutching at Newt's back as he was pressed up against the wall. 

His eyes fluttered closed as he lost himself in the kiss; the warmth of Newt's body flush against him; the soft noises escaping from his mouth. The hand not still clutching his cane cupped the back of Newt's head, fingers threading through the soft, short hair at the base of his scalp. 

He hadn't let himself think about this; about what it would feel like to pull Newt close and kiss a stupid argument out of his mouth; about how it would be for them to live in the same city and perhaps grow into something more than emails. He hadn't let himself think about running away to Wisconsin and endangering both their lives. He hadn't let himself think about _Newt_ this way.

And he was glad he didn't. 

After knowing the reality, the fantasy would have been untenable.

The door to the helipad burst again, and a pilot strode in amongst a flurry of snow. 

Red-faced, Newt and Hermann quickly separated and tried to look like they hadn't just been making out against a wall like a couple of teenagers. The pilot smirked continued through the alcove doors into the Shatterdome proper, leaving Newt rubbing his neck in embarrassment and Hermann blinking after him.

"I've wanted to do that for over a year now," Newt said with a short, flustered laugh. "Since the email where you called me 'a complete ignoramus with all the intelligence of a mollusc'." 

"That aroused you?" Hermann asked, frowning in confusion as he glanced at Newt and adjusted his parka.

"No. It made me laugh," said Newt, giving Hermann a small, tentative smile. "That wasn't too much was it? I mean, it wasn't a thank-you kiss. Well, not just. There was a lot of that. But also, y'know, a lot of... pent up sexual tension."

Hermann looked at Newt in bafflement. "There was sexual tension? We were exchanging _emails_."

"Oh. I was flirting a little." Newt shrugged, suddenly looking very intently around the floor to find where he dropped his bag. "And you say I can't do subtle. No big. Just, ah, show me to my digs and I'll be out of your hair."

"Newton. Newton, wait." Hermann quickly stepped over to Newt, placing a hand on his elbow to get him to look at him. "Until today, it wasn't a possibility I could ever entertain. You and I? We had to remain apart, for _your_ safety. I couldn't put you at risk."

"And now?" Newt looked up at Hermann wary, yet curious.

"Now... I need to cover your orientation so you can find your way around the Shatterdome," Hermann said, shrugging a shoulder towards the hall. 

Newt deflated and reached down to heft his bag onto his shoulder. "Right, yeah. Orientation... So-"

"And, then, perhaps, we could have dinner together?" Hermann raised an eyebrow, lips tilting up in an encouraging smile.

Newt's lips curved up in a small smile. "We could do dinner, yeah."

"Come on, then. There's much to see," Hermann said and lead Newt out into the hallway, giving him a tour of the facilities and introducing him to everyone he needed to know.

And if, on the fortieth iteration of _call me, Newt_ , Hermann still felt himself giving a small smile, proud and fond... well, it could only bode well for the night ahead.


End file.
